Two Sides of the Same Coin
by stisaac
Summary: Scott had done some pretty amazing things since the bite. But now here he was, purely human and completely helpless. Right when Stiles needed him the most.


**All right, so as much as I love Stisaac, Sciles also has an extraordinarily special place in my heart. I'm so scared about what's been happening with Stiles in season 3b and I've been reading some rumors and theories that just make it all worse. I need Scott to be his anchor and save him and uuuuugggghhhhh okay just read while I go get more tissues because these two wreck me. FYI, it's very close platonic friendship here but whatever you choose to read it as is fine by me. Inspired by my favorite Teen Wolf buddy Sam and Motel California. Enjoy!**

When Scott McCall was nine years old he went camping with his best friend. Okay, so maybe it was in Stiles' backyard with the sheriff keeping a watchful eye on them all night long, but it involved roasting marshmallows and sleeping in a tent. So what if they had the whole California wilderness? The best way to do anything was with Stiles. As long as the two of them were together, Scott never felt like he needed anything else.

He remembers though standing too close to the camp fire when a strong gust of wind blew smoke right in his face. His asthma was already bad enough and he didn't remember where he packed his inhaler. It was the worst attack of his whole life up to that point. He couldn't breathe because the smoke had infiltrated his lungs and was suffocating him. His chest burned like it had caught fire and he had even started to cry which didn't help.

It was Stiles who stayed calm and ripped through his duffel bag until he found his inhaler. It was Stiles who held it up to his lips until he could hold it himself. It was Stiles who hugged him when he cried and then promised not to tell anyone. It was Stiles who stayed awake all night to make sure he kept breathing. It was Stiles who had saved his life and it wasn't the first time he would do so. Scott may have been the one to get supernatural abilities, but he always believed that Stiles was the hero.

Now the hero, his hero, had fallen. Now Scott is standing on the rooftop, paralyzed by a fear that threatened to smother him just like the smoke had so long ago. He can't breathe. His chest throbs and it feels like a chain has been wrapped around his lungs, pulling tighter and tighter. He opens his mouth and one word escapes in a gasp.

"Stiles."

Stiles doesn't turn around. He keeps his back toward Scott, only the slightly twitch of his shoulders a sign that he heard his best friend's voice. Scott doesn't expect him to speak but he does and it's the worst thing imaginable.

"You shouldn't be here."

It's low and quiet and hardly sounds like Stiles at all. Scott clenched his hands into fists to still the trembling and draws in a strangled breath. "Stiles, please," he whispers, his voice breaking. "Let me. . . let me help you."

Stiles still doesn't turn around. His hands are gripping the railing that runs around the length of the roof so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. Scott can see his head turned downwards to the ground so far below them. "You can't help me," he whispers. "No one can."

Scott swallows hard past the growing in his throat. "What are you talking about?" he asks. His vision clouds suddenly with tears and he has to blink them away quickly for fear of losing sight of his best friend for too long. "We won't know unless we try, Stiles."

"We have been trying, Scott. Nothing is working. I'm too dangerous to all of you. You're better off with me-"

"No!" Scott finally finds his full voice and shouts the word. A sob chokes him briefly and he swipes a hand over his eyes again. "Stiles," he pleads again. "Don't say that!"

"It's true."

Scott realizes just then why Stiles' voice sounds especially unlike him. There's a flat, emotionless sound to it that Scott has never heard before in his entire life. Stiles doesn't sound angry or scared or even sad. He sounds dead. The thought makes Scott's heart throb. "Stiles."

He doesn't know what else to say. A small part of him feels like if he says his best friend's name enough times everything will be okay. He doesn't know what else to do. He's used to situations where he can just shift into his wolf form and save the day. Right now he's completely powerless to help Stiles. His teeth and claws are useless.

"I don't know who I am anymore, Scott," Stiles continues in that broken, shaky voice. "I'm doing things without realizing it, I-I could kill someone at any time. I could probably kill you right now, Scott!"

"You wouldn't!" Scott argues desperately. Even as he speaks, he knows that he could very well be wrong. He knows that the darkness has taken a stronger hold on Stiles than him and Alison. He knows that there have been close incidents like the one with Kira. He knows that the best friend he's known since he was seven is not the same. But he also knows that he doesn't really care.

Finally, Stiles turns to look at him, the color drained from his thin face. Dark circles seem to carve hollows under his once vibrant brown eyes. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you and it was my fault. Look what happened with Kira, Scott! Who knows what else I've already done without knowing it. What if something is already going to happen? I can't control myself and-"

"You're not going to hurt me," interrupts Scott. "Stiles, listen to me, please." He starts to take a step forward but then freezes in place when Stiles takes a step backwards, bumping up against the railing of the roof.

Stiles holds up both hands to keep him from moving any closer, eyes wide open in terror. "Don't," he says, shaking his head. "Don't come any closer, Scott. I'll j-jump. I will."

"Okay, okay," Scott's heart is pounding inside his chest so hard that he's certain even Stiles can hear it. "I won't come any closer, Stiles, I promise. Just. . . just as long as you stay where you are too. Please. Stay right there for me. We can fix this. We will fix this. I promise."

"You can't fix me," Stiles insists, shaking his head. "I'm too broken this time. I'm not even me anymore."

"Yes you are." Scott doesn't want to stand still. He wants to rush forward and pull Stiles to him and drag him far away from the edge. He wants to hold onto him and not let go until he knows for sure that he's safe again. Because right now, Stiles is only a danger to himself. He's become his own worst enemy. "You'll always be Stiles."

"Kira almost got killed because of me."

"She wasn't."

"But-"

"There won't be a next time." But that was the wrong thing. Stiles' eyes light up for a split second in a way that sickens Scott because he knows exactly what his friend is thinking. "Stiles, don't!" he shouts.

"It's the only way to be sure that there won't be a next time," Stiles says, turning his back on Scott once again. "Just promise me that you'll look after my dad, Scott." He grips the railing, fingers drumming in an anxious beat against the cold metal. "Promise me that he won't be alone."

Scott inches forward a few steps, both hands extending out towards his friend. He hears someone crying and it takes him a moment to realize that it's actually him. There's no longer any use in fighting against it. He stumbles on shaking legs and nearly goes down. The sound of him almost falling makes Stiles flinch and for that moment, Scott's heart stops it's rapid pace to pause altogether because he's almost certain that everything is over.

"Just do this one last thing for me, Scott." Stiles says pleadingly. "Let me go." He slowly lifts one leg and puts it over the railing, eventually moving himself to the other side. It's only a couple of inches but the distance between him and Scott now seems impossible to cross. "Please."

"I can't." Scott's mind is racing. Stiles is closer to death than he is to him. All he has to do is let go. He knows there's not much time. He's running out of things to say to keep Stiles. "Stay with me."

Suddenly Stiles' breath hitches and Scott can see his shoulders beginning to shake. Somehow it's the most hopeful sign he's seen so far. Stiles doesn't really want to do this. He wants to stay. He wants to let Scott help him. He wants to _live. _"Stiles," he says softly. "Look at me."

Stiles obeys, turning in a painfully slow motion. Eyes swimming in tears, he reaches up to rub them away, rocking backwards in slight unbalance. "Scott," he replies, staring at Scott's outstretched hand. "I know this doesn't seem like the best thing right now. And I know it's hurting you and I'm sorry for that. But in the end-"

"The end for me will be when you take that last step." Scott bites down on his lip so hard that he tastes blood. "I need you." That's all. He's played his last card, the one closest to his chest, right above his heart. It's all he has left. He's empty handed now.

"You'll be okay. You have Isaac and Derek and Allison and Lydia and-"

"I need _you_." Scott repeats. "You, Stiles."

"Scott. . ." Stiles looks even more lost. "I don't know who I am anymore."

"I do." Scott takes a step and then another. Stiles isn't moving. Their eyes are locked on one another. "This right here? This isn't you. But you're somewhere inside and you want to get out, I know that, Stiles. And I can help you if you just let me. Stiles, you're my brother."

Stiles' face crumbles and he starts to cry in earnest. He chokes out Scott's name and Scott takes advantage of possibly the only opportunity he'll ever have. He lunges toward his friend, grabbing the front of his hoodie and pulling him up and over the railing. He drags him several feet away from the edge before his legs give out from under him and they both fall to the ground.

Stiles is dead weight in his arms, shaking so much that Scott is afraid he might fall apart. He tightens his grip, holding onto him for dear life. Almost instantly, he can breathe again and the pain is gone from his chest like it never existed. Stiles is here. He's safe.

"S-Scott," Stiles whimpers, fingers winding tightly in Scott's t-shirt. "I d-don't. . . I'm s-scared."

"I'm scared too, Stiles." Scott whispers. "I'm really scared."

Stiles tries to pull away to look at him, but Scott won't let him move and holds fast. "What are we going to do?" he whispers.

Scott would give absolutely anything to have an answer for Stiles. He aches to be able to give him some reassurance. "I don't know," he admits brokenly. "But I do know one thing." He waits, letting evert single one of his words sink in.

"What?" Stiles whispers, the slightest hint of life and hope in his voice.

It's enough for Scott. More than enough. "I know that we'll figure it out. Like we figure everything out. Together."

**SCENE BREAK**

"Lay down," Scott closes the door to his room and gestures to his bed, but Stiles doesn't move from his side. He's still shaking, Scott notices. "Hey," he says, grabbing his friend's hand gently. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Stiles doesn't say anything but he allows Scott to lead him over to the bed and then lays down. Scott sits on the edge of the mattress, stroking Stiles' hair off his forehead like his mom does when he's sick.

"Will you stay here?" Stiles asks, too worn out to be ashamed by his vulnerability.

Scott nods and as if to emphasize, he squeezes Stiles' hand tighter. "Nothing in the world could take me away tonight," he promises. "or any other night. I'll always be here, Stiles."

Stiles smiles ever so faintly and Scott thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "So will I," his friend whispers, a little light coming back into his eyes and chasing away the shadows.

Tears blind Scott and he can't respond. He lays down so he can hold Stiles in a fierce grip, letting the tears overflow and soak into his friend's hair. Stiles is here, he has to remind himself over and over again. He's here and maybe he's not really okay but he is with him. That's all Scott has ever needed.

"Scott?"

"Hm?" Scott lifts his head and looks at Stiles and he can't help but smile because with each passing second Stiles looks more and more like himself. He's still broken and terrified but he's not lost anymore.

Stiles rests his head on Scott's shoulder and closes his eyes. His whisper is something that Scott can hardly hear even with his sharp senses. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Stiles." Scott replies without hesitation. He presses a kiss to the top of the other boy's head and shuts his eyes too, listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. "I love you, buddy."

Eventually, Stiles stops shaking. His tears run dry and his voice becomes hoarse. Then, at around five in the morning, he falls asleep with his head on Scott's shoulder. His breathing is slow and steady, the only hint of anxiety in the hand he has wrapped around Scott's wrist.

Scott is exhausted both emotionally and physically. Never before has he been so terrified in his life and that fear has yet to go away. He's afraid to even blink because it seems like Stiles will disappear for good if he disappears for an instant. That's why this time, it's Scott who stays awake all night watching over Stiles to make sure he's still there. And breathing.

**Thoughts on this or the show? I'd love to read them! Wish me luck because I don't know if I'll survive next Monday's episode. **


End file.
